Our Strange Duet
by piratingelvenpyro
Summary: After finding his forsaken mask, Meg goes in search of the Phantom. Together can they win his angel back? Betrayals, music lessons, and adventures ensue! Please Read and Review and i will forever love you!
1. Christine?

**A/N: The author (that's me!) is strictly an EC supporter. Therefore this will not be EM. Anyhoo! PLEASE read and PLEASE respond. You must understand how nice it is to check your mail and realize that people have read your work! (Thank you to TheIncredibleOne for reading EVERY SINGLE STORY I have written. Even when they suck. **

**Disclaimer: I got nothing. **

Water squished inside young Meg Giry's boots as she waded through the lagoon of the Phantom's lair. Stepping out onto the candlelit oasis that had been his home she sighed. Her stomach felt as though it would sink into her soggy boots as she realized its vacancy.

Where were they?

Christine, Raoul, the mysterious phantom? Everything was silent except for the squelches and furious yells of oncoming searchers.

Meg wandered the shrine-like dwelling of the phantom, tearing off curtains wherever they hung, thinking that behind them could be…what? Meg didn't want to think ofthat. She knocked over candles and artifacts most certainly stolen from the Opera house in her searching frenzy. Recognizable vases, statues and books were scattered everywhere, and Meg now knew how they had disappeared.

The other searchers were nearly here now. They held fiery torches in front of them, creating a smoky mist that mingled with the claustrophobia of the desolate place.

"Found anything?" A man yelled from across the lagoon at Meg.

"No, there's no one here. Nothing" She replied, noting the worry in her tone.

Ascending a set of pallid stair, she found herself atop an altar it seemed that was devoted to…music? Yes, for an aged organ sat ready to be played and sheet music was heaped everywhere, some pages half finished, some scribbled out. Meg could have sworn that she saw the keys moves for a moment, and a mournful melody invaded her mind.

_The angel of music sings songs in my head._

Meg stepped down the stairs to the right and looked around, desperate for any sign of her dear friend or the villain who had kidnapped her right in front of all the Parisian Opera patrons.

And there it was. Glinting at her from a table, not three feet away was a mask. The mask of the opera ghost. It sat, estranged and lonely, like the man who once wore it.

Picking it up, Meg felt something strange. Like someone was watching her. Was it the presence of the Phantom? Was he close by? He must be.

Meg looked around to see if anyone was watching her, they weren't. The dozen of people were searching rooms and underwater for clues and no one noticed Meg slip behind the remains of a large smashed mirror. She was careful not to step on glass that lay in puddles everywhere.

Once out of sight, the young ballerina looked down at the forsaken mask.

He must have fled this place. And with Christine too! That's what had happened! Meg thought nodding her head, her eyebrows knitted in frustration and worry. The phantom had heard the rowdy mob of people pursuing him and had dragged his hostage into hiding.

Meg decided then that she would find them. And she would do it alone, her mother would be so terribly angry with her, but she had to save poor Christine! The girl who had been like a sister to her was now in the clutches of a murderous wretch who probably intended to do all sorts of horrible things to her. And what of Raoul? Meg could only imagine what torments the Phantom had in store for him. _Oh God I must go! _Meg thought and quickly darted her eyes around for a means to leave. Peeking out from her hideout, Meg caught a glimpse of a dark violet curtain hanging limply a few yards away. It was the only one she hadn't torn down. _I can hide over there until I figure out where to search. _Meg reasoned. She counted to three and ran behind the curtain. Someone was coming this way…she had to leave. Backing up behind the curtain, Meg hit a wall.

Turning around, Meg saw a figure facing her and it was all she could do not to let out a shriek. But in the dim light emanating from beyond the curtain she could see thatit was not a wall at all but a rather large mirror. And the figure was only herself.

Someone was right outside the curtain now. If they were to pull back it back, hope of finding Christine may be gone. For they would follow her,making noise and alerting the one she hunted of their presence.Backing up against the mirror, Meg couldn't go any further. But suddenly, the glass upon the mirror shifted. Spinning around, Meg slid the glass to the right. A trick mirror! Just like the one in Christine's dressing room. That was how she knew to come here in the first place!

Beyond the frame of the mirror was pitch blackness. And as Meg stepped through the looking glass of doom, she was surrounded by it. Wishing she had brought a torch to guide her, she stuck her hands out it front of her to feel her way around, her left hand still clutched the mask.

"Ick!" She squealed as a hand touched the slimy wall of the hallway she appeared to be in. _I must be in a sewer of some sort. _She thought noting the smell and chill that seeped through her thin ruffled shirt, causing her to shiver. With a groan of fear Meg realized what else dwelled in sewers, rats. And how she hated rats…and how she knew she would scream if one sidled next to her foot, blowing her cover. Then she knew she would not escape from the Phantom's "magical lasso." That is of course, if he were in here.

With that lovely thought, dread clenched her stomach, now not only for her friend, but for the impending doom that surely awaited her in this cavern.

But she knew she must press on. Christine could be in here somewhere! And Meg took a determined step forward and then another, deeper into the never ending darkness.

After about half and hour, Meg felt as though she had gone three feet. For each step was fearful and diminutive. With her hands still stretched out in front, Meg hit a solid wall of concrete. Turning left, the hall kept going. Three steps more and her hand hit something else, a protrusion in the wall. It felt like a lever. Meg hastily pulled it down, and she felt the floor beneath her moving backwards.

Gasping, Meg didn't know what to do. But as the floor revolved, she found herself inside a room. Looking behind her, she saw the cement wall that had just moments before been outside. She had been transported by means of a revolving door!

But there was a new issue at hand. The room she was now in was large and empty, dimly lit by a few flickering candles. A wooden chair was planted in the corner, and an empty basket was sprawled upon the rough dirtyfloor.

Trembling at the freezing temperature, Meg stepped into the bare room, which hadbeen haphazardlypainted a dark shade of peeling red. Two doors were placed on either end of the room, one without a knob, and the other slightly opened. Meg walked up to it, and inhaled as she opened it sharply.

Nothing...just a completely bare cube, no larger than a bathroom, with pipes lining the ceiling. Meg went back into the main room and circled it.

The silence was stale and tense. Meg was certain no one else was here. She stomped her foot to make sure,

That is when a meek voice called out… "Christine?" And though the voice was no more menacing than her own, Meg froze, her feet riveted to the ground. She heard a door click open, then shut.

A hand came out of nowhere, closing in around Meg's mouth as her eyes widened in horror, choking on her scream, the white mask fell from her hand crashing to the ground.

**A/N: Respond please, but no flames. I know it's a little dull…but it shall get better I PROMISE!**


	2. An unwanted rescue

**A/N: Yay! Next chapter. I thought it was really long because i wrote it by hand first. Then i typed it and saw with cold realization that i have rather large handwriting. But I can't write long stuff because I hate rambling forever. I kinda get right to the point.

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Meg was turned around harshly so that she was face to face with her attacker. His dark figure loomed over her, candles illuminated only the left side of his face. But as he shifted into the light, she saw his horrible disfigurement upon his right half. Scarred and mangled, almost as if he had been visciously burned. Meg tried to stifle a gasp of horror. For she had only seen him from a distance when Christine had torn off his mask revealing his distortion to the entirety of the theatre.

But...looking deeper, Meg's eyes locked with his, and she saw no hatred or murderous intentions. Only sorrow. The Phantom of the Opera looked down at this intruder and stepped away.

"Where are the others?" He whispered, so Meg could barely hear. It was a voice so unlike the the deep melodious one he had used to seduce Christine only hours ago.

"What? N-n-no one is here except me." Meg stuttered backing away. "They are all searching..." she motioned towards the revolving door she had entered through. Meg didn't know what to do. She had planned a great confrontation in which she would yell and scream and pour her hatred out through words at this horrible creature. But now, as the time came, no belligerant thoughts came to mind as she looked into the lamenting face of the murderer.

"What do you plan on doing now? Come to torment me have you? My life it seems has come full circle." He said, his tone becoming harsh and sarcastic. "Turn me in why don't you? Bring me to your police!"

"I can't!" Meg stated bravely. "You have Christine! Release her!" She said slowly, although she knew this was not true. Christine and Raoul must have escaped, Raoul had to have rescued her, for there was no sign of her presence here in this drafty sewer room. And no sign of her in the pitiful eyes of the phantom.

"My dear, it was not wise of you to come here, but as I am indebted to your mother for the treacherous life I live here hidden away from the world, you shall be freed this time Meg." He said with his head down, his voice tremoring at nearly every syllable,

These words hit Meg like a sharp smack across the face. The Opera ghost knew her name? She should have known, with him lurking in every nook and cranny of the theatre...what else did he know about her? And her mother? What did her mother have to do with him?" This couldn't be good. Meg didn't even want to know what secrets her mother had been keeping from her right at the moment. But then again...

"How do you know m..." Meg began but was cut off.

"Leave now! Tell no one of what you have seen." He cried. Meg jumped at his piercing tone and bolted towards the door and pulled down the lever that would lead her back into the dank sewer hallway. The floor moved forwards and she took one last look at the doleful slouching form of the Phantom. Until darkness enveloped her and she closed her eyes with her back against the cold stone wall. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. Then, taking a step forward Meg tried to remember which way went back to where she had come from.

Searching the air with her hands, Meg realized with a horibble sinking feeling, that there were three directions she could choose from. Left, right, or straight ahead. A thought flickered through her mind, maybe she should go back and ask the Phantom for directions! Meg chuckled grimly to herself at the idea. If she went back there he would have her in a noose so fast she wouldn't be able to utter a syllable.

As Meg stood deliberating which way to go, something caught the corner of her eye. A finger of light seeped out onto the floor from a crack, low down on the ground by Meg's right boot. As she looked down, a thud resounded lightly behind her. It was coming from back there, in the room.

Meg bent down so that she was level to the miniscule crack. She surveyed the room through it, her eyes flitting about the room madly. Squinting, she saw that the small chair that had been in the corner was now placed more towards the center. But there was no sign of the Phantom. Where had he gone? Silent disappearances seemed to be his forte, as he had been prowling around the Opera Populaire for who knows how long without being caught.

Meg got down on her knees so that she could spy properly.

After a moment or two, he returned. Meg frowned when she saw what he held in his hand. A long rope fashioned into a noose. With bated breath she waited to see what he would do. Who was he planning on hanging? Meg knew she should run away but her eyes were transfixed to him as he attached one end of the rope to a metal loop on a wall. Then he stalked back to the chair and climbed atop it, looping the noose through a larger metal loop on the ceiling, leaving the lassoed end dangling menacingly.

She expected him to climb down and leave the glowing red room in search of his victim. But to Meg's dumbfoundment, he fitted the rope around his own necks and tightened its hold.

Something stirred in Meg right then, though she didn't know where the heroic response came from, she followed it. All she she knew was that she must save this man.

Furiously she threw herself against the wall trying to find the lever that would activate the rotating door. She struck gold. She pulled it down so barbarically that she had thought she may have broken it.

The floor spun so that she was turned to be face to face with the wretched scene of the Opera ghost's suicide.

He saw and she could not decipher the look on his face, confusion or anger? Nevertheless, he kicked the chair away and swung, hanging like a limp rag in the breeze.

Frantically the little ballerina rushed to where the rope was tied to the metal protrusion on the wall. She attempted to untie it, her long fingernails digging into the secure knot. She found herself simply clawing at it. Finally, it loosened a bit and she was able to completely untie it, the rope was released, and the Phantom crumpled to the ground, the rope trailing after him, landing in a puddle at his feet.

Meg realized for the first time, the situation at hand. Relief and a spell of nerves took over her mind, and she as well collapsed onto the floor. _Should she have saved this killer? And what would he now do to her. _

His form lay in a perturbed silence for well over a relieving moment. Meg feared that he was dead and she had been too late. As she crawled silently towards him, he suddenly pushed himself up to his feet.

"What have you gained now? You have saved nothing but a murderer, you can join me in hell now suppose, for did I not tell you to leave, or perhaps you just wished to mock my sorrow some more before i meet my death, is that it?" He raged thrashing about.

Meg traced the fury into his now black eyes and remembered her mother's warning to Raoul...

_Your hand at the level of your eyes!_

For in one fluid motion, he had swooped down and picked up the rope. With practiced aim, he lassoed Meg Giry like a roaming cow.

But she had lifted her hand just in time and caught the rope around her neck. It was too tight, she could not lift it off, but it could not strangle her now.

But in his rage at his foiled suicide attempt, the Phantom kept trying to kill her. He advanced and tightened the noose. Meg's fist was pressed against her face as her weak wrist stood between her life and death.

"I-gave-her everything Meg! My music and my love. Still she left. What reason do I have to live now? NONE!" He bawled in his tirade. "And now you have no reason either."

"Stop!" Meg shrieked, but he kept tugging the rope in vain, his whole face contorted with anger so that Meg could barely tell which side was truly defected.

"I-I can..." Meg tried to speak but he jerked her back and forth with the rope so that she could not. "I can help you!" She managed to get the words out by yelling. Unexpectedley, he stopped his furious heaving.

"How?" He said, his face devoid of emotion. "How can you help me? There is nothing you can do. She is gone forever, she made her choice. Who could ever love this?" He motioned to his face as sank to the ground releasing the rope from his firm grip.

"How foolish of me to ever think that I could win her." He brought his knees to his face, and folded his arms, crying silent tears.

Meg saw that the noose was still hanging from her neck. She brought it over her head and dropped it, rubbing the back of her neck where it had burned her.

She looked around and sighed. Then, she dropped down to her knees next to him. Feeling much safer now, for some reason. Inching closer, she placed a cautious hand on his shoulder.

"I can help you get her back."

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**A/N: So...do you like? Shall i keep going? Only you can make that decision. Sorry if my spelling was bad, i relied on spell check for too long and it has now abandoned me. **


	3. Become the Man she would have loved

**A/N: Here's more! **

"What?" The Phantom said turning to face Meg, tears streaking his disheveled face.

"I can help you get her back! I know Christine better than most people, I'm sure I can help." Meg said, a little unsure of what she was doing, but nonetheless, it felt right to help.

All he did was shake his head back and forth and turn back around again. Meg sighed and stood up, folding her arms. "Which way leads back to your...umm...home?" She asked.

"Left." He answered through a soundless sob.

Meg took off through the revolving door and ran full speed, left down the uncouth hallway until she crashed into the wall, which marked a turning point. She continued right and finally saw faded light ahead that must have come from beyond the mirror's frame from which she had entered.

She climbed out through the frame and found herself behind the curtain once more. Voices still filled the cavern, the people must not have given up searching yet. What did they expect to find now? Surely someone must have informed them of Christine and Raoul's escape by now? Apparently not.

Inside Meg's mind, the wheels were turning, trying to think of a way to get this Phantom out of his Opera house. If she got everyone to leave here, maybe she could coax him out of his drafty sewer back out here. _Yes...baby steps Meg...that's the way to go. _She told herself.

Emerging from behind the curtain, Meg scoped out the few who remained. "There's nothing back here!" She yelled in her reserved worried tone. "He must have left the Opera House."

With that, the remaining searchers dispersed, Meg caught wisps of conversations between them; "The murderer fled with Ms. Daae!"..."He killed the Vicomte!"..."The Phantom of the Opera will be hung for sure!"

Meg knew now how rumors spread so quickly among the elite.

She stood there, she must have looked rather bewildered for the last man to retreat back into the watery sewer turned to her and shouted "Miss, are you coming back, or staying here to rot?" His scruffy beard and torch giving him a caveman appearance in the ashy light. Meg jumped as her thoughts were joggled.

"Oh, no...I'm just going to stay for a final look around." Meg didn't sound very convincing, but the man didn't seem to care as he turned and splashed away leaving a plotting girl in the smokey remains of the Phantom's lair. She looked around again, this time taking in its breathtaking beauty and mysteriousness. Well, it must have been beautiful before they had wreaked havoc upon it. But Meg could imagine how romantic it must have been, when the Phantom had brought Christine down here, the dripping candles adorning tables and mantles. Richly colored curtains draped everywhere and the haunting melodies he must have played.

If only he wasn't a cruel murderer who terrorized the theatre. She thought sardonically.

Meg turned on her heel and reluctantly headed back to fetch the Phantom. She hoped he hadn't tried to kill himself again...uh oh, her pace picked up at this thought, and soon she found herself yelling, "No! Wait! Don't do it please!" Until she came to the lever again which led her into the Phantom's room.

But he wasn't attempted a suicide again. No, he was precisely where she had left him. Scrunched up on the floor basking in his sorrow. Except he had retrieved the mask that Meg had dropped and placed it back over his face. Even though there was no reason for it now that most of Paris had seen him, ah well. Whatever floated his boat she thought.

Meg rolled her eyes.

"Come on!" She yelled, not knowing where her courage came from. Probably from the lack of fierceness from this pitiful heap on the floor.

"Get up already! Don't you love Christine? If so then why not fight for her!"

"And where have you been these past few months Miss Giry? Is that not what I have been doing ever since that pretty boy De Chagny came into the picture? No, it's over now and nothing can be done. Just leave me alone!"

"No! You will not give up, you must become man that Christine could have fallen in love with, the man she did fall in love with. Of course until you skewed the situation." Meg stated in a matter-of-factly tone.

The Phantom's expression became dark and he turned to Meg sharply, "You may want to choose your words more carefully next time," he said reaching for the rope which lay inches from his hand.

"That's more like it!" Meg smiled, "except perhaps a little less threatening..." She said, backing away slightly. "At least come back out, there's no one there anymore, I told everyone that you left."

"Really? Or are they all just standing right outside waiting to attack and throw me back in a cage?" He said standing up.

"Please believe me, I still think Christine loves you, she just well...got scared?" Meg asked and said at the same time.

A pipe began to clank loudly above Meg's head, and a knob attaching two segments of it gave way, spurting water everywhere, including Meg's head.

"Ugh! Please, let's get out of here." She groaned trying in vain to mop her hair with her hand. The Phantom didn't argue. They exited into the dark hallway once more and treked back silently in the dark. As they walked, Meg felt his hand brush against her arm as he searched for the wall to guide him. She shivered at how cold it was, it must have been the way he felt inside. Icy and withdrawn.

"Excuse me," she said awkwardly,

"Yes..." The Phantom sighed.

"I do hate refering to you as 'The Phantom' do you perchance have a proper name?" She asked not really expecting a reply.

"Well I suppose 'Erik' is as close to a proper name as I ever had." He said, his voice rapidly becoming more and more...normal could she say?

"Mmmm." Meg nodded in the darkness. The name to her didn't seem to fit him. It was so simple, compared to the semblence of the man behind the mask, he was a walking tragedy.

"Well then Erik," the name felt foreign to her, "I must warn you that, to put it bluntly, your dwelling place has been thouroughly sacked." She said as they came upon the mirror frame.

"Ah well. It wasn't much of a home anyway. Plus, materials can be replaced. It's not like everything actually belonged to me." He said. Meg agreed with a chuckle.

They both came to the frame, and Erik gestured for her to go first. How gentlemanly. Meg shook her head. Christine would surely take him back.

He looked around with a slight grimace on his face, at his once luxurious sanctuary.

"I told you..." Meg said.

"Well you certainly can't stay here, your lungs will be blackened by morning, you will never sing again." He declared.

"Well, what about you! I've heard you, and if I do say so myself, you are quite the singer." Meg said, amazed at how easy conversation came to her now.

"There is no music in me now. No need for song. But you still have the life of a chorus girl ahead of you, and can't afford to be hindered." The ballerina didn't know what to make of this comment, so she just let it go.

"Where will we go then?" She asked.

"I don't know...but it will be hard to get out of here now, police and firemen and spectators will be surrounding the place." He said.

"All your doing..." Meg muttered so he couldn't hear.

"Come," he said rashly, as he bent down to sift through some sheet music that lay at their feet, he picked it up and and strode over to a curtain, which Meg recognized as one she had torn down in her haste to find him. Erik came back with a ragged brown bag that he had stuffed the sheet music in, he grabbed a cloak from the bench of the organ, and with a grand swish, put it on and fastened it at the neck.

He took her hand and led her to the right wall of the alcove, there was a latch made of metal on the wall, how had she missed it before?

Erik saw the bewildered look on Meg's face and said with a laugh, "Yes, I believe I know this Opera house better than anyone!"

He opened the door, and Meg stepped in, followed by Erik who closed it behind him clicking it into place.

"Where does this lead?" Meg asked, whispering as though someone would hear, though that was impossible.

"You shall see in just a moment." He said a little agitated. They walked a few yards, "wait here," he said and reached upwards, moving something on the ceiling it seemed. A small amount of light seeped into the tunnel they were in and Meg saw soon that she was looking through a manhole. He hoisted himself up so he could see if the coast was clear. It was.

Meg, being considerably shorter than Erik, looked up, her eyebrows knitted. He clasped his hands together and she took the hint, putting her hand on his shoulder and stepping onto the platform he had made, she was boosted up onto the street, thinking how nice it was that she was wearing pants. She climbed onto the street and found herself only a few yards behind the Opera house. She gazed at it, the windows were no longer, rubble caked the building and sirens and hoards of people surrounded it. No one was looking in this direction though.

Erik came up after her, and stood up, his cloak trailing behind him, he was ironically sillouhetted against a full moon. His expression taut and rigid as he looked sternly at his old home. Meg stared for a moment too long at this picturesque villainy scene. He looked down at her, still sitting on the pavement and whispered harshly, "quickly come, we must get out of sight."

She obeyed his word and stood, following him as he dashed in and out of shadows.

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**A/N: So...yeah. I realized that Erik made a rather quick recovery. But I like him much better when he isn't depressed so...yes. REVIEW POR FAVOR!**


	4. An interesting Bedtime Story

**A/N: More? Yeeeeeees. **

Meg and the shadowy figure that was the Phantom darted down the street, Meg kept glancing over her shoulder, only to see smoke billowing lightly from a building farther...and farther away.

"Where are we going?" Whispered Meg, though Erik was way ahead of her.

The street came to a fork, and Erik took off down the right side without stopping for a moment to consider, and Meg followed, though she had been warned never to go this way.

The street lamps here were lit, but they were so faint, that they cast an eerie glow over the pavement. Meg assumed they were entering a more shady part of Paris...she had never ventured far from the Opera House without her mother so her stomach fluttered in fear at each shadow that passed, and each screech of a nighttime animal. She felt a droplet of water on her head, and looked up, noting for the first time, the clogged gray black sky. Another drop hit her nose.

Erik finally stopped his flee from the Opera house and waited impatiently for Meg to catch up. She took in her surroundings with a frown. They were under a rickety roof, that housed what looked like an inn. But the only letter left on the sign nailed haphazardly to the door was an "n". The wooden panels that should have made a wall, were oddly strung together, so she assumed the inn was prone to leaks.

"You can go in there for tonight. I will return in the morning to hear your plans for rescuing her. If your not here when I return...well...I will find you eventually..." Erik said, his eyes shifting rapidly, looking behind Meg.

Thinking the statement was a joke, Meg laughed nervously, though she knew Phantoms probably didn't make jokes too often.

"Quickly, someone will see you." He said now more urgently. And she saw he was serious.

"I'm not going in there!" She yelped. "Just look at it! Plus I have no money either so..." she dismissed the thought. But Erik reached into his brown bag which held his sheet music, and procured a few bills which he thrust into Meg's hand.

"There are worse places you could be." He said with a glower. With a dramatic swish of his cloak, he set off down the road. Leaving a baffled Meg standing under the dripping roof, for the rain had begun to steadily pour.

"Where is he going!" She cried in frusteration. Grimacing at the thought of entering the building...if you could call it a building, Meg toyed with the idea of running back to the Opera house. Her mother would be terribly worried by now, trying to find her in the midst of the crowds that saturated the outskirts of the theatre. But the warning of the Phantom won her conscience. What did he mean..._I will find you eventually?_ Meg knew it couldn't be good, so she screwed up her face and turned to open the door to the "n".

It was darker in there than it was outside, in the twighlight hours of Paris. Here, only a flickering lantern served as light. It rested on a dusty wooden desk. Behind it, a squat man who looked as though he had shaved with a butter knife sat with his feet up, snoring rather loudly, Wearing a rumpled pair of trousers and a shirt that Meg couldn't decipher the color of, and a green cap which looked as though it had seen better days. He actually reminded her a lot of that Joseph Buquet...may his soul rest in peace, she thought.

She noticed quite a few empty glass bottles scattered around the floor and on the desk at the Inn man's feet. And as Meg took a step towards him, she heard a crunch under her foot, more glass presumably. She put her hands warily on the desk and cleared her throat, hoping the man would fall out of his drunken stupor, as she saw another bottle being helplessly strangled in his hand.

"Excuse me!" Meg whispered, leaning in slightly, when he did not budge, she said a bit louder, "Excuse me sir!" Nothing.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Meg looked around, then yelled, "Excuse me!" The man woke with a start and his beer bottle went crashing to the ground no doubt created quite a hazard to those in bare feet.

"What is it? Geez you didn't haf ta yell." He growled, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Then he looked up and saw who was his awakener. "And what, may I ask, is a little miss doin' in these lowly parts of Paris on a night like tonight?" He muttered in a low raspy voice, nodding his head towards the door, which then as if on cue blew open letting in a gust of wind along with the rain. Meg scrambled to shut it.

"I, just need a place to stay tonight please." She handed him the money Erik had given her. The man grumbled as he counted it, and handed Meg a key.

"You get our finest room miss, number 243." He said, and Meg stared at him. "That way," he motioned behind him to a stair case that looked as though it would crumble away at any moment. He jotted something down on a notepad in front of him, then w

"Thank you." Meg took off up the stairs. She didn't know how her room number could be 243, as she wasn't sure there could be three rooms in this hole of a place. Let alone 243.

Once at the top of the stairs Meg crept down a yellow hall, to room 243, which was next to room...146? She just shook her head and opened the door.

There wasn't much to describe inside the inn room. A small bed was the centerpiece, next to it, a wooden box with a lit lamp sitting in the dust on top of it. In the corner, next to the window, there was a chair that was possibly make out of a few sticks.

Meg sat down on the Bed, which, not to her surprise felt like concrete beneath her. She sat facing the window and unlaced her black knee high boots. As she pulled them off and threw them in the corner, the door burst open behind her, and she gasped, whirling around to see who the intruder was.

But it was only Erik who had barged in.

"I apologize, miss." He said, quickly shutting the door behind him. "It seems my other hideout has been found. Police are swarming about trying to find me, I had to come back here."

"But how did you get in?" Meg said but immediatley wanted to eat those words. First of all, he was a master in lurking and sneaking about, and second, the entire army of France could walk into this inn and not be noticed by the man downstairs at the desk. "Nevermind." She added.

Erik nodded and unfastened his cape, letting it fall to the ground. Meg looked around, not knowing what would happen next, for this was just a little awkward.

"Well I suppose you should get some rest Miss Giry, for much of Paris will be searching for you and myself tomorrow and you'll need your strength to run." He said as he sat down in the stick chair and looked out the window.

"I doubt anyone except my mother will be searching for me. You maybe, but I'm just a chorus girl, no one will care of my dissapearance." She said, looking down at the floor.

"Oh yes they will!" Erik said, his voice oddly filled with a strange sort of glee. "Everyone will think I have kidnapped you, and fled..." He said, as though reciting some plot from a story.

"I see..." Meg said, a little worried.

"Meg, how do you plan on winning Christine back for me?" Erik turned back to Meg, who still sat on the edge of the bed.

"I suppose, I was going to talk to her, bring her a rose, tied in a black ribbon from you perhaps. Something romantic, no more one way mirrors and mind control. Trust me, that is not the way to a woman's heart." Meg tried to laugh at comment, but the Phantom was back to looking mournfully out the window.

"Why did she go?" He whispered. Meg pretended she hadn't heard him and rolled onto the bed and pulled the paper thin covers over her. Falling into a light sleep, she fell onto her side.

Only two hours later, she awoke, to find Erik still wide awake, a grimace on the side of his face that was not hidden by his mask.

"Erik?" She called. "Would you like the bed now? I could...um...sit there if you wanted to rest."

"No, just go back to sleep Meg...I'm quite all right here." He answered, not breaking his gaze upon the wall.

But Meg could not go back to sleep now, she sat up on the feather of a pillow and looked curiously at the phantom of the Opera. Who though, still had his mask, did not seem so phantom-like. All those years she had witnessed "accidents" and mishaps, Meg had been the first to know who had been the cause of them. "It's him! He's here! The Phantom of the Opera." She would whisper to Christine. Meg always knew he existed, though other chorus girls did not.

And here he now sat before her, a wreck who pined for his lost angel of music.

Then suddenly she remembered something Erik had said earlier, something about owing his life to her mother. Madam Giry...

"Erik, how do you know my mother?" Meg blurted her thought.

He frowned, making his rigid expression deeper. The room was in silence for a moment or two before the Phantom began to speak. He surprisingly recounted the entire tale of Madam Giry rescuing him from the traveling fair so many years ago. Never once making eye contact with his audience. Meg sat in horrid fascination listening to the heartwrenching story.

"Your mother saved me from the evils of the humans, but she did not save me from the evils of love. Or rather the lack thereof" He finished.

Meg didn't know what to say. She let out an "ah" that didn't nearly sum up what emotions she had mixing in her stomach at the moment.

"Not quite the best bedtime story I assume?" Erik muttered, then began to softly hum a tune that Meg did not recognize. But his haunting voice, however quiet it was, soothed her into a deep sleep.


	5. Your Task

**A/N: There is nothing to say!**

Rivulets of light dripped into the inn room, gently waking Meg from her dreamless slumber. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, memories of the night before coming back to her slowly. The sleeping form of the Phantom sat still in the corner of the room. Meg recalled the story he had told her last night, of his childhood and his relations with her mother, and sighed in pity.

Meg got up and retrieved her boots from the place she had flung them last night. Trying not to make a sound she put them on and stood to look out the window. Nothing particulary interesting. A pigeon pecked at the cobblestone ground one story beneath her, and a man with a suitcase rolled across the scene.

Erik woke then, quite peacefully. Meg turned to him and mumbled "good morning." He did not answer though Meg didn't dwell on that.

"I should go find her now, I am certain she will be with Raoul." Meg said, taking notice of how Erik cringed at the mention of the Vicompte.

"The crowds around the theatre should have diminished by now." He added. "You can go ahead, I will follow behind you." Meg didn't question him, and she exited the room. She checked to see if the coast was clear for her masked companion. It was, save for a hungover man sprawled against the door of room 201, three doors down from her. Meg ducked back inside her room to tell Erik that he could come along, but he wasn't there. She beheld then, the moth-eaten curtains billowing benevolently as the window had been opened in silence. Meg shrugged at Erik's refusal to use normal transportation when there was no reason not to.

She made her way downstairs past the "lobby" desk where the man still roosted upon the unlucky chair, which seemed to cry under the pressure of his mass. Out the door she went, onto a street full of puddles, remnants of the rainstorm the night before.

Meg could see the Opera House in the distance over the array of broken down houses on this hapless unihabited road. She quickened her pace, and came upon the theatrewithin minutes. It was astounding to her, that poverty dwelled only a mile from the prestige of the world renounded Opera Populairetheatre.

Police and other men were clustered in front of the building. It seemed they were doing their best to clear out rubble and bodies from the disaster. She felt a twinge of guilt as she saw two burly men carry out another person, dressed in a brown suit that was covered in ash. He was dead, and she was now in cahoots with the person who had inadvertently killed him. But then again, her mother was too. She supposed the apple didn't fall far from the tree, the pity trait ran in the core.

Meg was staring into the blackened hole that had been the entrance to her home from behind a tree on the other side of the street. She did not notice a shadow creep up on her from behind. She was jolted when someone placed a hand on her shoulder and spun around. She found herself facing her mother, wearing the same gown as the night before, though her hair had been cast from its elegant updo into a frizzy braid, adorned in jewels whichwere fallingoff like cheap sequence now.

"Mother!" Meg gasped and hugged her tightly. She braced herself for thescolding that would surely follow. But it never came. In fact, her mother took her hand and pulled not too gentlyher from her stance across the road. She stopped behind one of the great pillars near the Opera House.

"Mother! I have seen him! The Phantom of the Opera! Except his name is Erik in actuality, and he knows you, and me! He told me all about his wretched life at the traveling fair and how you rescued him after he killed that horrid person who whipped him. And now I'm going to help him win Christine back because he doesn't seem all that bad...well other thanthe whole killing people bit but..." Meg said in one breath. She waited for her mother to object. If she did, Meg planned to escape into the trees, for she was a much faster runner than her mother. But the reprimands didn't come.

"I know Meg, I told the police you were missing in the fire, and they think you are dead." Madam Giry told a perplexed Meg. "They also believe Erik is dead, killed himself. So with both of you presumed "dead" your task will be much easier to accomplish." She continued in a brisk voice. "You cannot be seen, quickly now!"

But Meg was still confused, "Mother what task?" She asked.

"Christine and the Vicompte are to be wed soon, perhaps this week, after all the fuss over the Opera House dies down.You must stop this, for she does not love him, she loves her angel and always will. Go now, into the Opera House to collect your things. Your dormitory was only partially destroyed. Fetch a cloak at least to stay hidden, then go to her. Remember, you are dead, dead people cannot be seen!" Her mother said to her in a breathy voice, glancing over her shoulder at the policemen who stalked every which way and that only a few yards away from her and her daughter. She shunted Meg towards the entrance without another word.

Without thinking, or looking back Meg dashed into the building and forced herself past the rubble and debris that still fell lightly from ceiling. She hoped that the blue fabric she saw underneath a block of wood did not house another dead body. She whimpered and moved a plank that had landed diagonally. It was hard to find the hidden staircase that lead to the dormitory hallways, but she found the escarpment amidst the littered floor.

As she turned to face her old home, she saw the glass from windows that had imploded, piles of ash caked the floors. Meg coughed, inhaling the cinders and she staggered into the room which had once been hers, along with some other chorus girls including Christine, until of course she had become the star, inheriting the grand suite of the prima donna. It had been amusing to watch La Carlotta have a huge dent in her ego because of that.

The mattresses near the charred door were blackened, and the floor was burnt to the point that it might fall through if Meg did not step lightly. But halfway down the long room it seemed as though the fires had ceased, for the area that had belonged to her was fairly clear.

Making haste, Meg opened the grand wardrobe that she had shared with a couple other girls. She took out a plain white shirt with long sleeves, and laid it on the dusty ground. She then proceeded to load her other items of clothing on top of it. Tying the arms together, she had formed a sort of knapsack that she could fling over her shoulder.

She also found inside, a few cloaks, she chose a black one that probably belonged to Eliza Hebert. Another chorus girl, who was probably the finest dressed extra around, as her father was in the real estate business and had made a fortune selling farming land in Lyon. She was merely here singing at the Opera house because she had nothing else to do with her boring life. For she was not the brightest spark. Meg wondered, as she donned the cloak what had become of her last night, she had been one of the dancers in the _Point of no Return _scene. Meg hoped with a quick prayer that she had dodged the chandelier's crash into the stage.

Footsteps could be heard coming this way, Meg heeded her mother's warning to not be seen, and unbolted the huge glass window closets to her. She could fit through it easily enough. She turned around so she faced the center of the room, and she started to climb outside. She grasped the ledge and looked down. It was quite a ways to the grassy ground. But there was a tree only a foot away from the windowsill. She could perhaps reach over and retreat to the ground.

But the owner of the footsteps had rounded the corner and entered the dormitory. "Anybody in here Francois?" He grumbled, before taking in the sight of Meg hanging onto the windown ledge for dear life. Her head shrouded in black material, and a sack slung over her shoulder. It did not look good on Meg's part.

"Thief!" He bellowed, and more footsteps thundered upon the floor. "We've got another one!" He roared, stomping across the room and seizing Megs scrawny wrists, heaving her upwards so that her cloak fell back off her head. "Think you can take advantage of this disaster do ya? Climb over dead bodies and see what you can take huh?"

Another man entered the room, presumably Francois. He seemed to be a theatre patron who had escaped the accident, as he was dressed in fine brown slacks and a white silk shirt soiled with dirt and ash. Maybe he had cast off his jacket to make searching easier. Upon seeing the frightened blonde chorus girl in front of him, he yelled at the man who had taken hold of her.

"She isn't a thief Gus! She's only a chorus girl, stop! You'll break her wrists!" He pulled back Gus' arm and he let go of his firm grip on her. Meg scrambled to take hold of the ledge again, but her fingers slipped. Gravity was against her as it is for most people. She felt her stomach miserably rise into her throat and she soared backwards screaming. A branch on the tree she had wanted to climb down sliced her right arm, right through the flimsy fabric of her white shirt.

Her groan of pain was cut short as she hit the ground with a thud and her head smashed against the trunk of the tree. Her cloak floated around her, drowning her limp body in black. Her thoughts went blank, and it was as though she was back in the sewage hallway of the Opera House. She lay at an awkward angle for a moment before the men at the window began to call down to her.

Suddenly, a figure shrouded in his cloak darted out from no where it seemed, and rushed to Meg's side. Erik who had been loitering outside, hiding, waiting for Meg, placed a hand under Meg's head, making sure her neck had not broken. Then he quickly ungloved one hand and pressed it against her neck at the pressure point.

She was still alive.

He cast an enraged look up at the men in the window who were frozen in shock at the scene before them. Those deep cold eyes could put fear in the hearts of the strongest men. Erik put one arm under Meg's neck and another under her knees, and lifted her with ease. He slunk back into the vast cavity of trees to the right flank of the Opera house.


	6. B flat

**BaH! This is my fourth time reposting this...cuz i spell checked it over, and re submitted it...but the corrections are NOT coming up. I am terribly sorry. So deal with the errors for now PLEASE**

**A/N: I'm having major deja vu...I could have sworn i thanked my reviewers before...but it never hurts to do it again! So thanks to: Theincredibleone, GoldenLyre, Lottesalterego, Nota Lone, Lucrecia LeVrai, Angeloftheoperahouse, Reylan, PinkPunkMonkey, Anime-queen46, Possumz, trebien, Eileeeeeeeeeeeen, and last but not least, Countess Alana.**

**Keep reviewing people...I LIVE for them! Which is sad, cuz i don't get many**

"Come on Francois, we must catch them!" Gus shook himself out of his gaping shock. But Francois just stood stock still, his eyes fixed upon the grass below him where the Opera ghost had materialized moments ago. With his mask, cape and evil sneer, he was just as the stories described, except for the fact that he seemed to have a nose instead of a black hole.

"He's a ghost." He whispered, narrowing his eyes in thought.

"What's this nonsense? What are you talking about?" Gus asked, a confounded expression on his face as he turned to face Francois.

"That Madam Giry woman was telling the police about how she saw the Phantom of the Opera last night, his mask in tact and everything, so she knew it was him."

"Yes..." Gus prompted him to continue.

"She said she saw him die! She told the police that she saw him emerge from the cellars, as she led the Vicomte down to search for Ms. Daae. Apparently he was caught in the flames and was burnt to a crisp." Francois said with his eyebrows raised.

"Obviously not. Plus...if he was a ghost, how could he die again?" Gus asked, and Francois rolled his eyes at this stupid statement. "Plus, that man down there was flesh and blood just like you and myself. He picked up that girl and carried her off! He's most certainly not dead."

"The girl Gus!" Francois exclaimed seizing the man next to him by the shoulder, "you might have killed her you imbecile!" Gus frowned.

"Well, that masked fellow has her now, doubt she'd have been alive much longer anyway."

"Gus! Come, we must try to find her, I'm sure she was a chorus girl, I recognized her from the Il Muto Opera." With that, the two men departed from the window.

Erik was careful not to stumble over fallen branches and rocks as he fled into the park located to the right of the Opera House. It had the most plentiful amount of trees to hide amongst nearby. It would have to do until Meg recovered. Her long blonde hair fell from over her closed eyes and hung over Erik's arm, and the fresh wound in her arm dripped blood.

He found a relatively grassy clearing amidst the trees, and he placed her delicate form down, putting her bundle of clothes under her head. Ripping off a portion of his thin white sleeve, Erik fashioned a tourniquet around her sliced arm where it bled most freely. He checked her pulse again, still there. Now all he had to do was wait.

Half an hour past and pacing around the trees was becoming redundant. Thankfully Meg stirred slightly, and tried to lift her head up. "Mmmmm," she groaned settling back down. "What happened?" She hissed in pain.

"As you apparently have no skill in the ways of sneaking without becoming an apparition...you were caught inside the Opera House and flung from a second story window." Erik declared the basic plot of the events which had unfolded within the past hour.

The memories flooded back into Meg's head sharply and painfully. She grumbled, sitting up and rubbing her head, where a large bump was steadily forming. "Ohhhh dear." She said, taking in the sight of her arm, the blood had seeped through the fabric of Erik's shirt.

"I see I have much to teach you." Erik said, his voice low. He knelt down beside her to inspect for further injuries. Meg thought with a small smile, _Christine was taught by the Phantom how to sing, and I will be taught how to become a master in the skills of sneaking. _

Meg knew that the moment was not right for small talk, but she was feeling delusional, as her head had been nearly knocked off, and her brain probably shaken therefore she said; "Well Erik, I must say, your not only very skilled at being a Phantom, but your lyrics and music are...well I suppose, magical, and there is so much feeling and emotions! I mean, Don Juan Triumphant, on a whole was rather a disturbing Opera in itself, but the last song you sang with Christine...was amazing." Erik was looking the other way, and Meg could not discern the look on his face. "How did it go again?" She began to sing in a wavering voice, "_You have come here...in pursuit of that..." _but the author of the lyrics interrupted her...

"No! it was an B flat!" Erik spat at Meg.

"What!" She yelped, jumping up.

"A B flat, you sang a...oh never mind" Erik said and sang the line the correct way. "_You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which 'till now has been silent...silent." _His face held a strained expression as he forced his sonorous voice out, and it clung like sweet molasses to the leaves of the trees that surrounded them, resonating the notes back towards them.

"Ahh, like this?" Meg hummed a B flat note.

"Yes..." Erik said softly, "just like that."

"Well, I think I may be able to get up now." Meg said, not necessarily to Erik, but just as verbal encouragement to herself. She staggered into standing position, clutching her head. Slinging her possessions over her shoulder, she smoothed out her cloak and looked ahead. From here, the buildings in the distance were visible beyond the park. Erik disappeared as she commenced her trek through the deserted park.

A map was being sketched out in Meg's mind. She should know where the De Chagny manor was, after all, she had been there numerous times. Always with Christine, mostly during the three months in which the Phantom's terror was in a lull.

But usually Meg had taken a majestic horse drawn carriage ride to the manor, she hoped she could recollect where they had headed as Christine and her had giggled and gossiped in the carriage. The walk may also be difficult if she were to remain unobserved.

The outskirts of the park were bustling with activity. Finely dressed men and women hurried every which way and children with muddy trousers and skirts frolicked in the puddles jovially. As though a flaming chandelier had not come crashing down last night, bringing the fate of the Opera house with it.

Taking a superfluous glance behind her, Meg was not surprised to find the absence of Erik in her wake. Meg couldn't quite decipher how he could become virtually invisible. He was truly a genius, or perhaps just a very savvy madman. Either way, the cloaked ballerina admired his talents.

A jewelry shop was located across the street, and with few oncoming cars, Meg seized the opportunity and scurried across, pulling up the hood of her cloak. The shop was one she always remembered seeing on the journey to the manor, if she could just keep finding these landmarks, she would be there in no time.

"Mademoiselle, if you please, won't you try the latest?" A prim made up woman in a black fur wrap and cylinder hat stopped Meg, outside Lle Parfum, a high class shoppe hat Madam Giry sometimes went into. Indulging in a new scent before a gala.

"No thank you." Meg said in her mousy voice, and pushed past her, pulling the thin silky black material tighter around her.

Looking down at the pavement ahead of her, Meg attempted to plan her conversation with Christine. She could imagine..."Oh Christine! Dearest Christine, I met your stalker just last night, taking pity on him I brought him to you so he can torment and seduce you once more! Perhaps this time he will succeed in murdering your fiancé."

Her dear friend, was she doing her a favor? Or just making way for her nightmares to live on?

In her haste, Meg stumbled into a squat toad-like woman. Her hair thick and grey seeped from her high feathery hat like slime. She harrumphed and warbled only the most dignified French curses.

"Sorry madam." Meg mumbled and resumed her travels.

Turning street after street, she realized she had been acquainted with these sites. And at last, the De Chagny manor stood before her at the dead end of a grand road. Its vastness loomed over her. And though it was a beautiful mahogany colored building with ivy clinging to its every inch, it was no Opera House, Meg soughed.

She stood at the huge metal gate contemplating what to do. Leaning back upon the gate's pillar, she scanned the street full of grand edifices. Erik was surely somewhere watching Meg choke upon her plan.

Surveying the landscape from the window of the study perhaps, Christine Daaé spotted her fellow chorus member outside, and rushed downstairs to greet her. Garbed in a simple dress the color of midnight, it was long sleeved and flowed, swirling behind her as she burst out the door and ran down the carved stone steps of the mansion. She unlatched the gate and it swung open with a creak.

"Meg!" Christine squeaked flinging her arms around her friend. Lines of worry could be seen embedded in her forehead as she embraced her friend. "Megmegmeg your okay! We thought you were gone for sure!" Exclaimed the former Prima Donna, her hands on Meg's shoulders.

"No Christine, I'm fine. I'm so glad your here, I was worried about you too."

"Well, I was about to go to the theatre to help the police search for the missing. Did you hear, there are still nearly fifteen unaccounted for? When Raoul returns from the investigation, perhaps we can go."

Meg froze. She had been so overjoyed to reunite with Christine that she had momentarily forgotten her purpose here. Christine must have seen her expression, for she inquired what was wrong.

"Oh nothing, but Christine..." Meg tried to explain to her why she was here, but the words wouldn't form in her throat.

"Come on inside Meg, tell me everything that has happened." She took her hand and lead her inside.

A maid in a white dress and frilly gray apron promptly attended to them at the door, smiling and gesturing for Meg's cloak and possessions. Meg untied the cloak and thanked the maid.

But this action revealed her wounded arm, wound in a tourniquet made from Erik's shirt sleeve.

"Good God Meg, what did you do to your arm?" She reached for it and inspected the stained red bandage. Meg pulled away, "It's really okay, just last night in the chaos, a wooden plank fell and scraped my arm." Meg lied, not wanting quite yet to tell the true whereabouts of the cut. Christine just nodded.

"Well let's not stand here all day, let's go into the living room, I'll fix you up a proper bandage." She said heading left from the high ceilinged entrance hall, which sported a miniature chandelier, simply dripping with crystals. Meg found herself standing directly beneath it, she shivered and followed Christine into the Vicomte's living room.

The guest sat upon one of three pale yellow leather couches, and gazed around the room, relishing in the beauty. The wallpaper was flowers on a white background, very subtle and guest friendly. Portraits of the De Chagny family lined the walls. Christine returned with a bowl full of hot water and fresh cloths. She sat towards meg and untied the fabric around her arm that belonged to her angel. She rolled up Meg's broken sleeve and cocked her head at the sight of the cut which ran from Meg's shoulder to the back of her elbow.

"This couldn't have happened last night." She said curiously, not accusingly. "It's still bleeding profusely. It ought to have healed a bit."

The petite and frazzled girl who sat on the couch of the man she must soon betray felt her stomach twist as her lie backfired. Luckily Christine did not dwell on the subject. She dipped a cloth in water and brought it to the cut.

Meg squinted as it made contact with her ruptured skin, for the heat stung. She spoke to make the pain less apparent. "Where has Raoul gone again? To the Opera House?"

"I believe so, to answer some questions the police had. He came back not an hour ago to inform me of the missing people. You were among them, and I nearly had a heart attack. He returned there to help search for..." Christine stopped.

"What?" Meg asked.

"The Phantom of the Opera." Christine answered softly.

**A/N: Just a filler chapter really. Read and respond. Next will be more excitable!**


	7. A Lily

**A/N: waboom!**

Christine was looking down, fiddling with the piece of white cloth in her hands.

"Christine..." Meg asked nervously. "What exactly happened last night? If you don't mind telling me..." Meg hoped she would answer. And though remaining silent for a moment, Christine finally spoke.

"Up on stage, he came for me, everyone saw. But as soon as he began to sing, the walls closed in forming a secluded space where he was speaking to me, and there was no one else there. I was wholly his and I wanted nothing else _but_ to be his. I somehow remembered the simple choreography for the scene, and we ascended the stairs. It was as though I was back in his isolated lair the first time he brought me, and I had a sudden urge to see the man who sang to me in the nonexistent hours of the night and in my mind. Harshly as you saw, I recklessly tore off his mask, only a moment later did I regain knowledge of my whereabouts on stage in front of the an audience. The disappointment and wrath mixed in his expression was a face that will haunt me forever. Why did I…?" Christine inhaled a sob and regained control of herself. Meg placed an affectionate hand on hers.

"I don't know what he did next but I did know that the world around me was blurring and I was plummeting downward, my skirts in my face and Erik holding onto me for dear life. We crashed not too gracefully, and we must have been in the cellars, it all happened so fast…he was forcefully tugging and jerking me along a pathway back to his lair. I recognized the scenery from my initial expedition down there, though last night everything was stark and hostile, so unlike the majesty of the place when we arrived by boat. Once I was thoroughly kidnapped, he harshly requested I put on the wedding dress he fashioned for me. Worried about what he would do next, I donned the dress, and inquired what he planned to do. He had lost all of his charm, grace and debonair qualities that had wooed me in the first place."

Christine continued to recite to Meg the trials of the former night. Meg listened, an intrigued audience, her eyes fixed upon Christine's whose were glazed over and wandered here and there as she spoke.

When she had finished, they sat in a bizarre hush, Meg drinking in the facts about Erik's attempt at deceiving her friend into staying with her, and threatening to murder Raoul. And she was helping him!

But Meg resolved to the fact that she had seen a side of Erik that Christine hadn't, the side of him that was devastation at its worst. She felt no fury or fear of this creature of the shadows, only pity.

It was then that a frazzled Raoul broke came crashing through the front door breaking the silence. His leather coat was flung on haphazardly and slumped off of one shoulder his long hair quite bedraggled. Christine turned from her seat and smiled.

"Meg! Your alright!" He gasped. "I ran all the way here. Well, the body of a lady was under the chandelier, completely crushed her the poor woman. Anyways, the missing was down to only you! We all were searching frantically. But you're here!" He hung his jacket on an elaborate coat rack revealing a very bloodied shirt, not unlike Meg's.

"So, where were you last night?" Raoul finally asked the inevitable question that Meg had been dreading.

"Well you see, I um, went to look for you, and um, fell asleep in the cellars, then I, I, went back up to the dormitories this morning and I, well was really scared so I went and got some of my belongings and then, err…fell out the window kind of." Meg said ineptly leaving out entirely her escapade with the suicidal Phantom of the Opera.

"You fell out of the window?" Raoul asked quite taken aback,

"But Meg, the dormitories are on the second floor, that is such a long fall!" Christine worriedly stated.

"Yeah, but I was okay, landed on some soft…uhh grass…?" She needed to work on her lying obviously.

"So no one else knows you are here?"

"Well, two men saw me trying to escape the Opera house, and I saw my mother."

"Oh that's good, at least she won't be worrying. Oh dear, how about some food then? Olivia!" Raoul shouted to another maid who appeared suddenly at the door to the living room.

"Lunch Monsieur?" She inquired, already knowing the answer. Raoul nodded and sat down next to his fiancé, but not for much longer if Meg could figure out a plan to get Erik back into the picture. How she would hate to be so cruel to Raoul, but looking at them sitting together right there, Meg didn't see any spark, no chemistry.

But with Erik…that was a different story. Their chemistry was there and equipped with an entire lab! Now where did that Erik go? Probably lurking outside, watching Christine's every move. He would know by now that Meg hadn't revealed her secret yet.

The rest of the day was quite a dull blur, until around seven p.m, after supper. The maid Olivia had prepared a lovely roasted chicken dinner for the three and they were gathered around a friendly table with green marble candelabra as a centerpiece, when someone knocked upon the door, using the great golden lion knocker.

Fear clutched at Meg's stomach. He must have been sick of waiting. But why? He had been waiting for over ten years to claim Christine; one day surely wouldn't be a privation. Meg simply couldn't believe Erik would have the gall to waltz up to the front door of the Vicomte to get what he wanted.

Raoul opened his mouth to order one of the maids to get it, but Meg stood hastily, her chair screeching behind her.

"I'll get it!" And before Christine or Raoul could protest, she had scampered to the front door, two enormous rooms away from the dining area.

She heaved the vast mansion door open and inhaled deeply when she saw no one standing on the stone steps.

The moon suddenly appeared from behind a dark night cloud, and the soft glimmering rays of light seeped in a forty-degree angle, to where Meg's feet were positioned. Looking down where the light shone, she saw a single lily with a piece of torn paper attached. Reaching down, she picked up the flower that was spectacularly outlined in the black of the night. Opening the paper, Erik had scrawled:

_The back near the pine tree_

Meg knew that he wanted her to meet him there. So she glanced behind her quickly to make sure a maid was not dusting inconspicuously, and bolted to the pine tree near the back of the Vicomte's house.

**A/N: So sorry for the length, I just needed to get back to the story, another two chapters almost ready to upload, perhaps next week if i get 40 reviews...c'mon I can do it! And how about 60 by chapter 10? PLEASE!**


	8. A suspicion

**A/N: Hello my few fine feathered friends. PLEASE review. Just…please. **

**Have some soup! Ahem…story. **

The Paris night was a nippy one and Meg's bare arms were sliced by the cold, for the white flowery dress Christine had lent her was not one meant for cold climates.

The large pine tree near the corner of the De Chagny manor found Meg before she found it. In the darkness, Meg ran straight into it, and an arm came from behind pulling her around the rough bark.

She found herself pressed up against the left flank of the mansion, Erik drenched in shadow loomed over her, his eyes lit only by the vivid moon darted every which way nervously.

"What's going on in there?" He asked, sounding peeved but not so upset that he would take advantage of the cover of darkness and procure a knife from his cloak stabbing Meg through the stomach where he held her against the mahogany painted wall leaving her to die only to be found the next day by Christine where he would then capture her and throw her in a potato sack and haul her out of the country to marry her…….

_What morbid thoughts I have! _Meg thought surprised at herself for suspecting such a plot in Erik's head.

"I just don't know what to say…I mean Raoul is there, I can't very well explain that you are waiting just outside ready to have a cup of tea and talks the whole thing over, now can I?" Meg spat, rather uncomfortable with Erik's closeness. She tried to wriggle free of his grip, but he kept hold of her.

"Wait until tomorrow, the Vicomte will be…how should I say this?…promptly hastened to attend a vital meeting in regards to the insurance of his theatre. Compliments of yours truly. That's where you come in." Erik said slyly.

Meg nodded reluctantly. She would have to tell Christine tomorrow why she was really here.

"Explain to her that I…tell her…I…." Erik couldn't seem to form the words of which Meg was to tell his beloved. Instead he backed away a few steps and handed Meg a single rose with a silk black ribbon tied around it, attached, a small purple jewel.

"Just give her this…and say what you will." He looked down as Meg took the gift from him, perhaps embarrassed or ashamed.

Meg fingered the wine colored gem, it looked rather expensive.

"Erik…where did you get this? Tell me you didn't st…" but Erik swiftly justified himself.

"Opera ghost!" He said. (**A/N: Jack Sparrow-esque) **Meg smirked, now she knew what he had been up to all day.

She pushed past him, looking down to examine her dress, she saw that the hem of her dress was like a rather large pocket. Bending down, she placed Erik's stolen treasure inside and made sure it was tucked away safely. She nodded to Erik and without another word pranced back to the front door.

Erik watched her leave, her glossy blonde hair skipping in her wake and the moon shining on the spot where she had vacated. He stood in a moment of unscathed thought, which was rare for him as most of his thoughts were of either Christine or villainous plots to steal her. He thought what remarkable angels the Giry's were. His special guardian angels it seemed.

And even though he may never have Christine, he would never be alone. He never really had been.

Feeling overly cautious, Meg silently shut the door behind her, smiling apprehensively at the ever-dusting dust maid. She walked back into the dining area, where she was greeted by two queasily content faces bearing light curiosity looking at her.

"Who was there Meg?" Christine asked.

This operation get Erik and Christine together was hard work! Requiring her to think on her feet at random moments.

"It was a wrong address. The poor man was looking to get to the De Shavre manor, I gave him directions I do hope they were correct." Meg added an unnecessary giggle to the end of her statement, which had simply slipped out. Luckily it didn't ruin her cover.

"The De Shavre's, they were at the theatre last night. Apparently got away ok then I assume." Raoul said absentmindedly, picking at the remains of his food.

"Well then Christine, I do think you should get some rest, News reporters will be simply crashing down the door tomorrow to get your story." He said a few moments later as though it was a giddy everyday event almost.

Christine looked mildly sickened at the thought. It had been hard enough for her to recount the events of the former night this afternoon to her best friend; Meg didn't think she could do it again for complete strangers.

"So Raoul," Christine continued casually, "did you hear anything about Eri…I mean the Phantom?" She corrected herself, not wanting to sound any closer to him than she had to be.

Raoul looked at her strangely.

"Well, yes…er Madame Giry said this morning that she saw him killed in the fire. After he tried to kill…well I suppose you know now don't you." He told her uneasily, waiting for her reaction. But she didn't have one.

"Oh." She said and stared solemnly at her empty plate.

Meg suspected that Christine knew he was alive and well.

But it was only a suspicion.


	9. No Lemonade for Meg

**A/N: This here lemon has quite a history. **

Meg lay wide-awake the whole night, inside a guest chamber of the mansion. The walls were an inviting green color, but seemed sickly and gray in only the candlelight of the dark hours of Paris. She stared at the white void of a ceiling pondering.

Last night at this time, Meg was most likely roving the sinister soggy gloom of the Opera house sewers in search of a Phantom.

Everything since the Masquerade ball had happened so fast, it seemed that only now in this moment, as she semi-serenely rested on the crisp white sheets that everything ceased. Or at least was dawdling to let her catch up. And so she did.

The next thing she knew, her thoughts were being interrupted brusquely by harsh daylight that seemed to erupt out of nowhere. Perhaps it had been hidden by a cloud. The way Erik was hidden right now. Concealed yes, but would spring out at any moment.

Not wanting to stay cooped up for any longer than she had to be, Meg climbed out of bed and stretched a bit. Although she had not gotten any sleep, she wasn't very tired.

Apparently she was the first one up in the house. Silence greeted her as she walked down the grand winding staircase. She resisted the childish urge to slide down the banister. And she was glad of that, for once descending the flight of stairs, she realized she was not alone.

A wretched looking Raoul was seated on a couch in the living room, his clothes from yesterday still on. His head was in his hands and he was running them through his brown hair that looked as though it had been through a storm. He looked terribly exhausted. It seemed someone else hadn't slept a wink last night either.

Meg lingered upon the last stair for a moment, it creaked and Raoul looked up, taken aback that someone had been watching him. He quickly straightened himself out to the best of his ability and rubbed his blood shot eyes.

"What's wrong?" Meg questioned taking a few steps forward to sit next to Raoul on the couch where Christine had cleaned up her arm yesterday.

"Oh…nothing." He said as a sigh. "I just…I'm…well frightened to put in bluntly." He alleged.

"Of…" Meg pushed for answers.

"I don't think he is gone Meg, and I don't know what I will do if he returns." Raoul sounded utterly frozen, and Meg could feel his anguish as it poured out onto his face.

"He won't give up so easy…it isn't like him at all from what I have seen. Madame Giry…your mother I am sorry to tell you Meg…but, well, she was shall we say involved with this Phantom's life. In a very imperative way. I know she would cover for him. Even if it meant the possible lack of safety for Christine." Raoul tried to choose his words carefully. But being as disconcerted as he was, he didn't do too well. If Meg hadn't known better, she would have thought her mother was having an affair with Erik! Now wouldn't that have been a twist of events!

"My mother would never harm Christine! Or put her in danger of any sort!" Meg retorted standing abruptly.

"Meg…meg." He whispered using her name only as a way of exerting his distress. "If only you had been there. He will come again. Dead…I didn't believe it for a second. The Phantom of the Opera would never let himself die."

Meg could provide no words of comfort for the Vicomte. She put a detached hand on his tense shoulder and averted her guilty eyes.

"Ah well, enough worry for now I suppose. I got an urgent message requesting I come immediately to discuss the insurance of the theatre this morning." Raoul stated, standing promptly.

Meg's eyes widened and she gulped back a chuckle. Erik had done precisely as he said he would. The rest now was up to her.

Christine's childhood sweetheart strode over to the mirror that hung gracefully in the entrance hall and smoothed out his hair and grimaced at the sight of his raw looking eyes.

Apparently he wasn't as much of a slave of fashion as Erik had suggested. For he walked out the door dressed in his attire from the day before to congregate with some of the most prestigious gentlemen of Paris.

Meg had denied a maid's request to make her breakfast, and fixed her own, as she was not used to being waited on. She ate in silence for a while until Christine came down to join her.

"How long have you been up?" Christine asked with a chuckle.

"An hour at least." Meg said.

"Oh dear, slept in did I?" She laughed. The doorbell rang…then not a second later it rang again. Christine's eyebrows went up. "Oh no…they're here! Interviewers.!" She sounded horrified. This wasn't going well. If Christine was frightened by interviewers, how would she react to…Phantoms? This would not bode well.

"I'll take care of it." Meg pushed her chair out from under her and ran to the front door.

Sure enough, outside were at least six or seven babbling News folk, some carrying paper and pens, one with complicated camera equipment. It was great when there was a picture to go along with an article in the newspaper. Though they were rare, as it was difficult to set up the new fangled equipment.

"Ms. Daaé?" "Where is she?" "A couple questions with Christine please!" "Oh were at the scene of the Opera disaster mademoiselle?" "Just a quick interview please please!"

They sounded like a chorus of squawking birds.

"QUIET!" Meg yelled, her yell involuntarily coming out more like a whine, for she was not used to yelling much of anything except the scattered 'he's here! The Phantom of the Opera!' But she wouldn't be doing much of that anymore now would she.

"Miss Christine Daaé is not here at the moment. Nor do I know precisely where she is at the moment. But she will not be returning here anytime soon. Now if you don't mind!" Meg shooed them all away but they pushed in like a herd of cattle in a stampede. Meg spun around the door so she was inside.

A wary Christine was lurking around the corner, hanging onto a doorway. She held a look of mixed gratitude and annoyance as Meg worked to shut the door where interviewers tried to ooze their way inside. Finally it closed and Meg rapidly whirled to lock it before the outsiders could pry it open again.

The doorbell rang incessantly.

"Uhg!" Meg yelped and slid down the door crumpling. She chuckled slightly. "Well…eventually it'll die down!" Meg gasped smiling.

Christine nodded. "Thanks Meg."

But Meg's smile crumpled as she realized she was alone again with Christine. Meg had forgotten she was dreading this moment.

"Christine, I have to tell you something important." Meg stood up from her crouch at the foot of the door. The doorbell rang twice more and Christine closed her eyes in annoyance and pulled back the front few strands of her spiraling russet hair back.

"Oh please Meg, I can't handle anything too important right at this moment. Let's do something, something to get our minds off of…these things."

Meg didn't quite know what Christine was referring too, the news people, her recent abduction…Erik perhaps. But she obliged and asked what they could do.

"I KNOW!" Christine squealed like a little girl. "Let's play ballet tag!"

Meg couldn't help but laugh at this. They hadn't played ballet tag for at least five years. But the look on Christine's face was one that she couldn't resist. Christine had always been the more playful one. Meg was a bit more realistic and though not entirely serious, not a barrel of laughs either. The curly haired, wide-eyed soprano had always been fun loving it seemed, when she told Meg the tales her and Raoul's childhood schemes and games. She must have missed the good old days.

The DeChagny manor had massive rolling land behind it. A garden with stone monuments and fountains overtook most of the left side and around the border of the house. But there was still enough area to have a rollicking good game of ballet tag. If only the other chorus girls were here to play.

They crept around to the back of the house, passing the looming pine tree of the past night. Meg idly glanced behind it checking for skulking Phantoms.

Barefoot and dresses stained green, the two best friends curtsied and plied. Twirling this way and that, tagging each other as necessary.

Finally tumbling exhaustedly to the ground next to each other, Christine sighed with regretful happiness.

"You know I feel wretched. Poor Raoul is out there right now cleaning up my mess."

"What are you talking about?" Meg exclaimed, not realizing how Christine could be angry with herself right now.

"I told you about the time at the graveyard did I not?" Meg nodded. "I could have let Raoul kill him. None of this would have happened and no one else would be dead."

"Except your angel." Meg muttered.

"Pardon?" Asked Christine.

"Nothing."

Christine wound two pieces of bright green grass around her fingers.

"Well, I'll go inside and fetch some lemonade. We can have a picnic!" Christine said, wanting to do seemingly anything to get her mind off the recent events of her life. She would have to come face to face with them eventually. Hiding wouldn't work forever.

Meg lay back, basking in the glowing warmth of the sun. A few more hours. Then she would tell her. She would give her the rose and explain how Erik felt.

Or better yet…she would do it when Christine came back with lemonade…

Wow, it was taking an awful long time for her to get that lemonade.

An awful long time.

Meg sat up, looking back at the manor. The curtains were all drawn shut in the windows that were visible. She frowned. Halfheartedly she hoped Erik hadn't come through the stove to capture her.

Meg made her way back to the front door. It was open a crack. Meg let herself in.

Christine wasn't in the living room…or kitchen. There were no lemonade glasses anywhere. Meg tiptoed in her ballerina way to the dining room.

Christine had her back to her. She was hunched over the table, her curls cascading over her shoulders to the side. Her hands were propped up against the table.

"Was there anything you wanted to tell me Meg?" She asked coldly. Not turning to face her.

Meg's heart skipped a beat.

Christine spun around and thrust the front page of a newspaper in her face.

_Missing Chorus Girl Spotted With the Alleged Phantom of the Opera_

_Yesterday at approximately noon, two volunteers helping search for bodies and valuables amidst the rubble of the Opera House disaster scene claimed to see a young girl short of stature with shoulder length blonde hair in the dormitories of the theatre. One recognized her as a chorus girl belonging to the very same Opera house. Accidentally falling out of a second story window her rescuer came in the form of a man, cloaked in a white half mask. He proceeded to pick her up and carry her off into the Sé lle Franza park to the left to the theatre. Her identity is yet to be found, though it is most likely she is among the three still missing chorus girls:_

_Eliza Hebert_

_Juliet Fevre or _

_Margaret (Meg) Giry._


	10. Familiar Swish

**A/N: LIKE OMG. I updated. Well…you know the drill. Read it Review and I love you forever. I updated a bunch of other stories too. Aren't you proud of me: ) I'm on a roll.

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Meg's stomach knotted and her face was ridged. Her voice was lodged in her throat. Christine gave her a look of total despair and horror before hurling the paper back onto the table and making a beeline to the front door.

Meg ran after her desperate to explain, but Christine was busy slamming the door shut, and locking the three locks that lined the edge of it. She proceeded to roar like wind into the living room and study, grasping the curtains and nearly ripping them off of the windows, as she made sure they were all closed. She missed one next to the table. Christine made for the back door when Meg's voice returned to her.

"He isn't here!" Meg yelled stepping in front of the door, although she knew this wasn't entirely true. Erik could be skulking around anywhere right now. But she needed to calm the shaking Christine, who looked on the verge of a seizure.

"You! You…" Christine pointed and squealed, but couldn't finish her accusation. Meg sighed, and strode towards her friend, guiding her gingerly back to the table. They sat down and Christine put her hands to her face and began to sob and yell and sing at the same time. Meg could only make out the words "Always" "songs" and "head".

Would she have reacted this way if Meg had simply told her the truth yesterday? Erik had been with her for years, and it had only been a couple days and here she was flipping out because once more he might be near. She should really have been used to that.

"He's not here right now!" Meg tried to explain, once more. "Everything will be fine." She coaxed. Christine stopped crying and gazed longingly?…worriedly?…blankly? above the pastel pink bow holding Meg's light blonde hair.

"Did he find you when you fell from the window?" Meg asked in a warbling whisper.

Meg shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Erm…not exactly. Well…yes I suppose."

"What do you mean?" Christine pleaded.

"I didn't know where you had gone when he took you from the stage. I thought he still had you down there." Meg explained.

"Yes, and you said you…fell asleep in the cellars." Christine repeated the story Meg had told earlier concerning her whereabouts that night. She seemed to realize now how absurd the story had been. How could you fall asleep in the cold dark damp cellars?

This brought back the memory of Christine's first night as the Prima Donna of the Opera House. The seemingly enchanted mirror, corridor of gold and fire, the enthralling gondola ride, his voice…the swan bed…

"Well, I didn't actually. I went searching for you like I said. I didn't find you…but I did find him."

"Where was he?" Christine breathed. Meg couldn't tell if she was concerned for him or…

"He was going to hang himself." Meg said ingenuously. Christine looked taken aback. The horror on her face was apparent.

"Hang _himself?_ For me? All because of…he is truly mad." She said, perplexed.

"Or simply in love." Meg stated quietly.

"Then they are one in the same." Christine mused somberly.

"So, I was some how able to keep him from swinging." Meg continued.

"And how…exactly was this?"

Meg winced as Christine asked her this.

"Umm…he really wanted to see you again, and…"

"MEG! Why? He has killed people! He will kill more!" Meg flinched as Christine chastised her.

"He won't." Meg whispered certainly.

"How would you know?" Christine was agitated now, and her eyes never stopped darting around the room in her newfound paranoia.

"I just do. He never would have done anything to anyone if you simply had admitted to him that you loved him!"

Christine began to protest but Meg kept going, "Don't even bother trying to hide it. He's all you ever talked about after that night we found you had returned from his lair."

Christine couldn't dissent as they both noticed the swish of a familiar cloak outside the large window next to the table where they sat.

Their heads turned in a bob of curly brown and shiny blonde.

"I thought you said he wasn't here Meg."


End file.
